


Yet Another Day

by KaitoMowota



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Bottom Jean Kirstein, Crushes, Drinking, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, M/M, Modern Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan, Multi, My First Work in This Fandom, POV Third Person, Romance, Smoking, Tags May Change, They love each other, Top Bertolt Hoover, first time posting something, he might switch idk, i think, idk how they work lol, jean is actually really soft in this oops, kind of, plsbeniceimightcry, probably lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:22:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27806773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaitoMowota/pseuds/KaitoMowota
Summary: One simple comment from Jean throws Bertoldt all out of whack. Days that come to follow allow for some serious wonder, along with more soft encounters.
Relationships: Bertolt Hoover & Jean Kirstein, Bertolt Hoover/Jean Kirstein
Comments: 21
Kudos: 50





	1. Close Encounters. (maybe a little too close)

**Author's Note:**

> This is,,, my,,, first time really posting my writing. Usually i get too afraid and delete it a day after but im gonna work really hard to keep this up

Bertoldt sat silently, watching enviously as Reiner sparked up a conversation with one of his friends. The lucky bastard. Well- he wouldn’t call him that. Hell, Bertoldt barely had the nerve to raise his voice, let alone legitimately call someone such a name. And besides, Reiner was his best friend. He couldn’t just expect him to say ‘hey, why don’t you stick right onto my ass the whole time we’re here?’

See? It was stupid, and Bertoldt knew it. Yet he couldn’t just shimmy off the feeling of being alone. He couldn’t exactly pick up a conversation with anyone. Everyone had their own little groups, to which he didn’t fit in. And he wasn’t about to have them include him in the conversation out of pity. 

Besides, his hands were already beyond clammy, and his lips were so chapped that he was sure they were going to bleed. 

Who would want to be around someone like that?

He stopped himself from getting into that mindset. He wasn’t a total failure. And he didn’t have to have a lot of friends to feel like a success. 

Well, it still would be nice to have someone talk to him in the unfamiliar place. 

This brought him to his next question. Why did he let them talk him into this? why did he give into Sasha’s nagging. Why did he let everyone spur him on when they just knew he wasn’t the party type?

His cup tightened in his hands, lips pursed into a tiny pout. It was just coke, seeing as he was the designated driver, but he didn’t mind. Besides, getting drunk was something he should do when he felt safe. And right now, he most certainly did not feel safe, even if it was just the regular group of people he saw everyday in highschool a few years back.

He was blinked out of his thoughts when he saw a slightly staggering Jean come near him. He wasn’t piss-drunk, but he was certainly a little over the tipsy line. 

“Hey,” he said, the red solo cup crackling underneath his tightened grip. “Why you sittin’ by yourself?” The bi-colored hair guy asked, an unamused expression lingering on his face. 

“Oh.. Uh..” Bertoldt looked off to the side, already feeling a sweat storm work itself up. Jean and he weren’t exactly on bad terms, to say. But they certainly weren’t friends either. The whole thing seemed odd. 

“I’m just messin’ with you!” Jean suddenly said, a painfully big smile suddenly etched on his features. Bertoldt thought he was going to enter a mess of laughter before he ever started talking again. He didn’t. “You just... Never do anything! You’re so boring-“ he rambled on, making lazy hand movements as he spoke. 

Ah, yes. Exactly what he wanted. To be called boring. It didn’t sting as bad as he thought it would, though, seeing as Jean didn’t have that same look of malice in his face like he usually did. It was refreshing, not to see him with a scowl so deep. 

He was expecting Jean to continue on his mini rampage, but it never came. Instead, the other was staring at him. Directly. Bertoldt flickered his eyes to the side to get away from it again, about to scurry away before he heard him talk. 

“You have a really long nose. Did you know that?” Jean’s voice was abnormally still. It was like there was no traces of alcohol in it whatsoever. 

“Huh?”

“Your nose. It’s long.” he reached forward with a finger to gently slide it down said feature. It was weird to hear him say such a thing. It almost sounded like a compliment. What type of compliment, he didn’t know. 

“Yeah..?” he asked, glad to have the touch off of his face. 

“Mhm.”

Silence. There was complete silence after that. Jean was now on the floor with him, his khakis fitting tight around his thighs as he sat on his knees. Speaking of which- since when did Jean own a pair of pants like that? Bertoldt was definitely asking the wrong questions in this situation, but it was the one thing that had really stood out. 

Regardless, his heart was beating out of his chest, and wondering about a clothing article was the only thing he could do to keep his mind off of.. well, whatever the fuck had just happened. 

He supposed it was an interaction, though. 

As soon as he had gotten his company, it was gone. Jean was quickly being called over by Marco, whose cheeks were an awfully deep shade of red. He couldn’t say anything, though. His face was red too, boiling with heat. For very different reasons, though. 

“See you, man.” Jean said, throwing up a hand as he walked away, already laughing and snickering as he drank at whatever beverage was handed to him. 

—

The car ride home was bustling with noise. Connie had already insisted on playing the radio full blast, him reaching forward as far as his seatbelt would let him as he picked out the channel. Sasha was beside him, eating her a snack. Where she got it from was unknown, because Bertoldt would’ve swore up and down that she came out empty handed. 

“Oh shit!” She suddenly said, looking at the now spilt jar of Tostitos salsa that was in the seat of the car. “Sorry, Bertoldt!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands together in a pleading motion. 

Bertoldt just couldn’t bring himself to get mad. He knew Sasha wouldn’t have done it on purpose. “It’s fine,” he reassured, giving her a tiny smile through the rear view mirror. Sure, he knew it would be a pain in the ass to clean, but the way Sasha took it upon herself to try and scoop it back into the container was comedic enough to make him disregard that. 

The last thing Bertoldt saw was her licking at her fingers to get the remaining residue off before he took a turn at the intersection. He took a mental note to wipe off the handles once she got out too. 

He had never been the type of person to just live in the moment like the two crammed in the backseat. Maybe he was boring. Hm..

“Dude.”

“Hey, dude,”

“Dude!”

He didn’t know when it actually clicked that Connie was talking to him. 

“S-Sorry..” he immediately sputtered out, taking a quick glance to Reiner, who was currently resting against the window. He assumed that he was just trying to ignore everyone. That, or he had a blaring headache. 

“Our place was back there,” he said, his hands gripping at the middle compartment of the car. “Take us homeeeeeee,” he drawled out, to which Sasha just eagerly agreed. 

Without another word, he turned the car around, focused on getting them back to their shared apartment. Part of him wished that he hadn’t agreed to drive them, but at the same time, he was thankful. They kept things lively. 

And, they were his friends, after all. He hoped they considered him that. 

Once the two were back in the house safely, it was just him and Reiner again. Just like it was at the beginning of the night. 

He decided not to bother him. 

It wasn’t but a few minutes before Reiner decided to talk anyway, his eyes peeling back open as he sat up. “Have fun?”

“I guess. You?”

“Yeah.” he hummed, but didn’t bother to elaborate. Bertoldt figured he had been engaging in shenanigans with Kirsta. He hoped it was good-hearted shenanigans, or else Ymir would put up a fight. Which, she probably would anyway, but that was besides the point. He almost laughed at the thought. Almost. 

“I’m glad,” he said with a smile, to which Reiner just nodded. He could tell that he wanted to say something else, but decided not to press into him. 

The conversation was tense, that was for sure. Bertoldt didn’t know why, though. 

“Sorry for ditching you,” Reiner finally admitted, looking away bashfully. He looked the same as he did back in highschool. Same guilty look, same tiny apology. 

That didn’t mean he thought it was a fake apology, though. He knew Reiner meant it. 

“I don’t mind. Really.”

'Yeah, like I wasn’t complaining about it earlier.' 

Ah yes. Being an adult with childish, yet bothersome thoughts. Bertoldt really was living the life. Twenty two and going on ten. 

“Crashing at my place?” 

“I’ll head on home.”

The rest of the ride was quiet, besides a little small talk here and there. Neither of them wanted a deep conversation. But hey, at least things were back to normal. Or as normal as it could be for 3:23 in the morning. 

“Next time, I'll drive.” Reiner said as they parked. 

“What?” 

“Seriously.” he smiled, punching his arm. “I know you can have fun without drinking.. or doing any sorts of drugs, but.. you always seem so worried about slipping up.” 

The conversation was soft, and Bertoldt couldn’t help but give in to his kind words. It wasn’t like they went out that often. Maybe once every couple of weeks. And it was mainly just so that everyone wouldn’t lose ties with one another. There were usually no more than twenty people there at the time, and some nights they just sat and gossiped. It was reassuring to know that being an adult didn’t mean not to have fun. Maybe their lot could stand to be more serious, but they were young. Bertoldt knew they could be a lot more intense, given the situation. 

Those same thoughts repeated themselves in his head as Reiner continued to speak. These really were the moments in his life where he needed to just go for it. People made mistakes left and right. He could be one of those people making mistakes.

“Besides, i’m sure Jean would appreciate it if you didn’t stare at him like he was satan every time he spoke.” 

That was the sentence that threw Bertoldt off guard. Was it that obvious that he looked anxious to get away? Probably so. 

“Stop looking like a ghost, I wasn’t watching you. He just kept whining about it.” 

Jean was whining? He figured that Reiner was exaggerating, but at the same time, Jean did look like someone who would talk someone’s head off whilst drinking. He supposed he caught a small glimpse of that tonight. 

The subject soon faded as Reiner got out of the cramped car, the door shutting a little harder than he anticipated. He found himself rolling down the window to get in a final word. 

“Goodnight, Reiner.”

“Night,” he hummed, not even bothering to turn around and wave, instead just fishing his keys out of his pocket.

The window was soon rolled up again, and Bertoldt sat and basked under the heater for a moment. He wanted so badly to slam his head into the steering wheel. He didn’t know why he was making such a big deal out of it. Probably because it was the single most exciting thing that had happened in a long time. Maybe it was because he liked the idea of someone whining over him. No- that sounded selfish. Others would say it sounded ‘inappropriate’, which could’ve been true too. But that was far from Bertoldt’s mind. 

The only thing he let himself think about right now was getting home. 

So that’s what he did. 

The thirty minute ride back to the tiny apartment complex was the first time he had relaxed since six o’clock. The radio was playing at a soft level now, and things finally started to make proper sense again. 

For reasons he couldn’t comprehend, he felt a tinge of happiness.


	2. More Likely Than Imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank you two all of the people who decided to read this! A second, even bigger thank you to the two who commented. I know its silly for something like that to make your day, but it really did. I hope you both enjoy this chapter as well!

The next couple of days had been a blur. Whether it be the back pains he got from slouching so much, or the back to back shifts he had picked up at the telemarketing company that he swore was just a temporary job. 

While he finished school, at least. 

Well, to put it in simple terms, last Saturday night was in the back of his mind.

What was on his mind was how fucking tired he was. 

And despite that he needed to get work done, he felt like as soon as he shut his eyes, he was bound to pass out. But sadly, sleep didn’t come as easy as he had hoped. But to be fair, it wasn’t even dark outside. His body simply urged him to stay awake. 

He rolled onto his side, his phone grasped lightly in his hand. He silently flickered through the notifications he had missed, but only sighing as nothing important came up. Only thing that was worthy of noting was that he needed to pay for his phone service. But he had another three days, so he’d worry about it then. 

Just as he was about to click into a very skeptical mobile game, a soft beep was heard. It was Armin. He didn’t really know what to expect as he clicked on the message so he could read it in its entirety. 

‘Marco has his own little spotlight at the club tonight. He was asked to be the pianist for the night. I know it’s kind of an outdated thing, but he’s really excited. A few people are planning to go. I think some are going to sing too. I know it’s last minute, but we hope you can make it! :)’

He was about to reply until he saw the three little bubbles appear again in the bottom left of the screen. 

‘Closes @ 9. I know you’ll be as happy as I was to hear that.’

A small chuckle left his lips as he typed back a hurried response. He had no reason to not go. And besides, he knew how much this meant to Marco. He knew he tried his best to get small gigs here and there, whether it be him playing the piano, or being an over-the-top DJ. 

What would be a better way to spend a Wednesday afternoon? 

—

This was  _ definitely  _ more his speed. People were sitting around at tables, chatting amongst themselves while still listening to the people who were singing their heart out on the tiny stage. And of course, there was Marco, perched right in front of the piano as he played the sheet music with ease. He looked like he had done it a million times. 

Bertoldt wished that he could have just focused on that, but before he knew it, Eren was waving him down to their section, which consisted of a few round tables. They set four people each, and one of them was already full. 

Doubtfully, he made his way over towards the table that held an empty seat, which just so happened to be where Jean was sitting. Not that he minded, though. It just felt like their interactions were becoming more frequent. 

“Others are getting drinks at the front.” Jean spoke, adjusting the scally cap he wore for the sole purpose of sweeping his bangs off his forehead. 

The more Bertoldt stared at him, the more he realized he looked just like a paperboy, just without the newsletter bag at his side. The thought of it made him smile. 

“I can go get them to order you something-“ he offered, the dimple in his left cheek making itself prominent with his little smile. 

“I’ll be fine,” Bertoldt reassured, waving a hand in front of him. Worst comes to worse, he just waits in the line like everyone else. 

He couldn’t place his finger on the atmosphere between them. It was definitely lighter than it had been in a long time. 

“So,” Jean started, his eyes drifting away. He looked like he was trying hard to start the conversation. “I just wanted to sa-“

He was cut off as the remaining people of the table sat down, drinks occupying all of their hands. “Hey, Bertl,” Ymir said, giving him a slight nod. 

“Jean,” Krista said, pointing up towards the front. “Marco said you could sing whenever you’re ready. I’m still trying to find a song that Ymir will agree to sing with me,” she said with a tiny laugh, pulling her hair into a low ponytail after all the glasses were set down. 

Jean locked eyes with Bertoldt before sliding out of his seat, giving a brief nod to the girl beside him. “Right. Try to pick something grunge. She’ll give in easier.” 

Ymir’s face scrunched up in annoyance, “You guys could at least whisper.” she huffed, sliding into the stool. 

“We weren't even saying anything bad!” Krista countered, sliding her own seat a bit nearer so she could be closer to her not-quite-established girlfriend. 

A soft laugh was exchanged throughout all of them, and Jean had scurried up to the stage. 

—

Jean had ended up singing Piano Man, while Krista had somehow convinced Ymir to sing Happy Synthesizer with her. Hell, Eren had even gotten up and gave a very moving performance of the 2012 Ninja Turtles opening. 

All in all, the night was blissful. 

People in the audience would occasionally sing along, and it was funny to watch Marco mouth along with the words as he played. His face was nearly glowing with happiness, and his pearly white teeth didn’t help draw attention away from him. 

As it drew nearer to eight pm, the crowds began to thin out. Annie and Reiner had moved to sit with Bertoldt after the previous three had called it a night. 

“So?” Annie asked, absentmindedly stirring her straw through the iced water. She had never been one for putting her lips on public glasses. Something about how the employees probably ‘half assed’ the cleaning process. She was the first, and only person he had heard say that. But again, he probably just had a tad bit more faith in humans than most. He just assumed it would be clean. 

“So, what?” Bertoldt asked, leaning on his elbows, his vision becoming a tad bit hazy from how much he had strained his eyes that day. 

Annie shifted a knowing glance to Reiner, moving uncomfortably in her seat. It was obvious that she wasn’t too keen on the topic at hand. 

“He was making a pass at you,” Reiner said, almost bluntly. “Well. He said he was. But damn, he’s not the smooth talker he claims to be. I thought he was going to fall face first when he stood up.”

Bertoldt was oblivious, sure, but /that/ was flirting? They exchanged maybe a sentence and a half. “I think you’re imagining things,” he said politely, giving a soft shrug. Besides, Jean wasn’t gay, was he? He certainly didn’t act like it.

He was glad he didn’t say that last part out loud. It was definitely beyond stereotypical. He himself had liked guys and never said anything about it. Besides the two in front of him, of course. That could be Jean’s case.

Or, worst case scenario, they’re all in on a cruel joke. Which Bertoldt would result in laughing about, considering he’d be too nervous to say it hurt. 

Reiner reached forward and slid Bertoldt's phone towards himself, picking it up. “He asked me to switch seats so he could talk to you. And Annie came with me because she didn’t want to sit with him until you got there.”

“And that means that he was going to ask me out?” 

“Password?”

“What?” Bertoldt asked, a bit skeptical as to what he was doing. 

“What's your password?” he asked again, turning the locked phone screen towards the brunette. 

“four, seven, two, eight, eight, zero.” 

“Thanks,” he hummed, already flickering through the apps. 

Bertoldt couldn’t even bring himself to care. He didn’t know whether to think he was going to call someone, check his email, or take a  _ bunch _ of shitty pictures to waste storage. 

“Back to the story,” Reiner continued, flickering his eyes up every once as if to check he was still listening. “Well, you know how he was whining about you last weekend. It’s just something to think about.” he explained, his fingers typing away at a message. “Besides, you think he’s cute or something, right?” 

“When have I ever said that..?” he asked, even though it wasn’t exactly a lie. Jean was a pleasant person to look at. The way his jawline was sharp, or the way his bronze colored eyes had a tiny glint whenever he found himself getting into something mischievous. 

Annie finally tried to contribute towards the conversation, her hair falling in front of her eyes. “You just stare at him a lot.” she settled on, her lips cracking upwards into a tiny smile. 

“Yep, and knowing you, you haven’t even realized.” Reiner said, handing him back his phone. 

Bertoldt swore he felt his heart drop when he saw that Reiner had messaged the person they were talking about. Sure, it only said a small greeting, but he at least wanted to do it out of his own will. 

“You stress me out.” was all Bertoldt could get out. 

“Maybe if you got some dick, you wouldn-“

Annie glared daggers at him after that, the conversation soon dropping, and Reiner coughing nervously into his hand. 

Bertoldt knew his cheeks were probably red again. He knew sooner or later that people would be trying to set him up, but he didn’t really expect it to be soon. He also didn’t understand why they felt the need to, when they weren’t seeing anyone themselves. Mentally, he could guess the reason, but he wasn’t willing to accept it. 

Reiner soon stood up, slinging his jacket over his shoulders. “Going to head out. But at least think about it?” 

“I will.”

—

The message that Reiner had sent was far out of Bertoldt’s mind. He had assumed that it didn’t send due to the fact that it had been hours and he had gotten no response.

He clicked away on his laptop, trying his best to finish the assignment before it was supposed to be turned in. He had fifty nine minutes left. Technically an hour, he supposed, but knowing how strict this professor was, he was sure he’d get points off if he turned it in a minute late. 

But hey, that was plenty of time. 

He pushed his reading glasses up with one hand, his other hand still typing shakily. Normally, a LEQ wouldn’t have been a problem, but considering that he had started it at the last minute, and wasn’t too educated on the topic… Yeah. He had really screwed himself over. 

Just as he was about to officially start the document, he heard a soft ping from his bedside table. 

Oh.

_ Oh. _

Jean’s username was on the screen, the DM just under it. 

‘hey’

So, he did get the message. 

As much as he wanted to simply ignore it, he felt his hand reaching towards his phone, already clicking open the message. 

And he was glad that he did. 

It was one of the few times he had actually texted someone back and forth, without it being his mother or father. He figured it was just from him not knowing how to answer nine times out of ten. He was willing to give himself the benefit of the doubt. 

And best of all, he had actually discovered some more things about Jean. How he was ready to fight someone who didn’t like the color orange. Or the fact that he hadn’t answered sooner because he had been filling out applications for a better job. Even how he helped his mom put up the Christmas lights every year, since she would complain about getting too cold if she had to stay outside for more than five minutes. 

It was interesting, really. He had never really heard him speak much on family life, besides the one time that he had called said mother an ‘old hag’ out of anger. 

Just as it closed in on midnight, a final message shot its way through. 

‘sorry for saying you’re boring. nd abt the whole nose thing lol’

It genuinely surprised him that he got an apology. He didn’t really take it as an insult, though, the more he looked back on it. 

‘Its okay. Besides, it kind of made me realize that I am boring. I’m trying to get out there more.’ 

He assumed that Jean was just going to let it go at that, but surprisingly, he didn’t. 

‘then we should hang out’

Bertoldt was glad they couldn’t see one another. His mouth was parted open, and he didn’t know just how to respond. Maybe he  _ was _ trying to ‘make a pass’ on him. 

Yet he still tried to convince himself that it wasn’t like that. 

‘Sure. Just let me know.’

“cool. my house on friday?’

He wasnt exactly expecting him to say so quickly. No rain check, or anything. No- he had to get out of that mindset. Live in the moment. Be reckless.

‘I’ll be there.’

He shut off his phone and set it aside, staring at the floor for a moment. 

It took a few moments before he ever realized that his work was late. 

He didn’t even bother opening his laptop back up. 

He could just do it tomorrow. 

  
  



	3. Another Session

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a lot longer than I had anticipated. It's not my best work, seeing as i've been busy with exams and whatnot, but i'm hoping to get back within my groove for the next chapters!

Time had come and gone. 

Bertoldt had in fact went over to Jean’s apartment that Friday, and much to his surprise, it was nothing like he had expected. 

The apartment was a lot neater than he had expected it to be- especially with the fact that he had a roommate. There were clothes lying around here and there, and a few dishes in the sink, but it was nothing too bad. It actually gave off quite a homey feel, and it smelt like cider. He liked it quite more than he cared to admit. 

And on top of that, they had essentially ended up watching movies all night, to which Jean somehow managed to yawn louder after each one ended. This had lasted until eleven o’clock. Then it was just talking from there. More apologizing. More laughter. More good times. 

Even though Jean had said that the night was a total bust, Bertoldt would beg to differ. 

It was a lot of fun. And it was a side of Jean he had never seen before. One that almost started crying at the end of Toy Story 3. And one that was surprisingly worried about the way he acted, more so than he had ever seen in the past, anyway. 

It really was the best time he had had in awhile. 

He just couldn’t seem to say it enough. 

And the best part about it was that they had kept in touch after that. 

It started off with just a few texts during the day. But then it happened to morph into small good morning texts. And before long, it had been goodnight texts too. It was a great feeling. 

It was such a great feeling, that he just so happened to be distracted by his phone, despite his two friends sitting in front of him. 

It was almost comical how the three of them still hovered around each other after all this time. How they each still ordered the same drinks they had way back when. 

He was glad that they didn’t seem to mind too much that he was distracted— well, Annie didn't, at least. Reiner didn’t seem to either, but he wasn’t so sure. 

“I can’t believe the year has gone by so quick,” Reiner said, rubbing his hands together to create a tiny bit of warmth. “I would swear up and down that it was only march.”

“Yeah,” Bertoldt agreed, finally placing his phone down long enough to gaze out the window, a thin layer of frost covering the small area of grass across the street. “Do you think it’ll snow?”

Bertoldt had still longed for snow, no matter how frigid it made everything. Especially when they used to get days off of school because of it. Not that it mattered too much now, but for nostalgia purposes, he definitely had his hopes up. 

“Forecast is calling for it later this week.” Annie chimed in, but was mostly focused on the steam emitting from the paper cup. He could tell she was getting too

impatient to wait for it to cool down. 

“Ah.”

A comfortable silence soon fell upon them as they tended to themselves. It made him think about just how lucky he was to have them. And how much his life would’ve been a hell if he didn’t. 

“I’m happy for you, yknow.” Annie finally spoke up, now staring at anyone and anything besides the two people that were across from her. 

The small statement had even caused Reiner to do a small double take. 

“What?” Bertoldt asked, feeling his palms becoming sweaty all over again. Gosh, he needed to stop getting nervous, especially when people say something nice. 

She huffed to herself silently, obviously putting forth the effort in what she was trying to convey. 

“I know it’s hard for you to.. trust people. It’s good to see you opening up again, is all,” she explained, finally taking a sip of her drink to take away the seriousness of the moment. She soon looked over to Reiner, giving a slight shrug. “I’m happy for you too, I guess. You've been working hard lately.” she finished off, already beginning to act as if nothing had happened. 

Both of them sat there for a good few minutes, Bertoldt’s lips even parted to further show the shock coursing through his veins. It wasn’t like they were going to make a big deal out of it, but getting compliments from her was always a treat. 

“Thank you,” Bertoldt said, a shy smile on his face. Reiner on the other hand gave his ‘cool guy head nod’ as thanks. He wanted to return the soft compliment, but couldn't even form the words to do so. 

Besides, things were probably better left as they were. 

—

Surprisingly enough, he and Jean had already made plans to see each other again. Except this time around, they were hanging out at Bertoldt’s place. 

He didn’t have people over too often, and as a result, he was stressing himself out over making it look presentable. Moving things here and there. Straightening up the picture frames. Things of that nature. 

Time had quite obviously gotten away from him, because after a few more moments of him scrambling around, there was a knock at the door. 

He made his way over, not even bothering to check the peephole as he opened it up to a very flushed Jean. He knew it was from the cold, but it was still a rare sight. 

“I didn’t know you were rich,” Jean suddenly blurted out, not even bothering for a simple greeting. He was soon wiping his boots against the doormat so he wouldn’t track in any water. 

“I’m not..?”

Jean rolled his eyes, unwrapping the scarf from his neck. “Yeah, sure. You can just casually live here being mediocre.”

Bertoldt gave a tiny chuckle, giving a slight shrug as wel. Sure, he was better off than many people would suspect, but he wouldn’t actually consider himself wealthy. Besides, having money brought upon a lot of unwanted attention. 

Before any other words were exchanged, Jean was already messing with everything in sight. His eyes glued to the bookshelf. “Why don’t you just go to the library..?”

“Collecting books is fun.. and I like to have them in case I need to reference them back. Saves a lot of time, I guess.” 

Jean seemed to be satisfied with the answer, sitting down on the couch with a huff. 

Bertoldt made his way over to sit beside him, keeping a respectable amount of space in between them. He couldn’t let himself come off as too clingy. 

Jean’s eyes continued to wander around the room, already locking onto his next conversation piece. 

“You still have a Game Boy Advance?”

“Yeah.”

So, maybe they hadn’t come as far as Bertoldt had initially thought. It was right back to these small exchanges of words. 

“Do you still play on it? They used to be the shit back in grade school,” 

Bertoldt smiled at that, nodding lightly. “I play sometimes. Mainly just the pet games… I know

it’s stupid, but I still feel guilty when I don’t check on them,” he explained, nervously scratching the back of his neck. 

“Then let’s check on them,” Jean said, not even giving any room for a rejection as he went to snatch the small console off the shelf. 

“Jean- we don’t-“

“Come on. We both know we’ll end up just watching some shitty movie because apparently we can’t talk to each other like normal people. So just shut up and show me your damn dogs!” 

Bertoldt stared at him for a moment, the stern, yet reassuring look he gave only making him give in. The corners of his eyes began to wrinkle as his smile

grew larger, taking the item as it was handed to him. 

Jean had made no effort to sit apart, their knees touching lightly as he got himself comfortable enough to be able to look at the game. 

The small screen was soon booting up, Bertoldt muttering a small ‘sorry’ as he leaned a bit closer so he could actually see it good enough. 

With a surprisingly steady hand, he clicked into the game application. 

—

Bertoldt didn’t know how long they had both been playing. They had been passing it back and forth for quite some time now, each taking the time to walk the dog, and attempting to teach it some sort of trick. 

“Jean,” his normal soft voice called out, still waiting for them to switch off places. 

It never happened, though.

“Jean,” he started again, moving his gaze towards where he was. 

He soon stopped his beckoning, his eyes softening as he realized he was asleep. It almost seemed cliche. He wasn’t really laying on his shoulder, about to fall in his lap, or anything. But the thought still made Bertoldt jitter with nerves. 

He let his thoughts drift back to the game as he saved the progress, shutting it as softly as he could, given the circumstances. 

Part of him kept urging himself to wake him up. To just ask him to go home. But the other part of him really did want him to rest. He looked so at peace… Well.. He still had his resting bitch face, sure, but you could tell he was at least resting. And that was enough convincing for Bertoldt to just leave him there altogether. 

He did at least make the effort to get him a pillow and blanket, knowing that if it were him, he wouldn’t be able to move his neck for days if he was left like that. He hoped that he wouldn’t mind. 

He had to admit that he was shocked at the fact that Jean hadn’t moved a single time during his whole fiasco of getting everything set up, or even moving him. But hey, he was proud of himself for at least getting him into a more plausible position. 

He took a small step away and took a few more tiny glances at him as he made sure the blanket wouldn’t fall. He hadn’t done too bad, he figured. He’d be warm now. 

Getting himself to bed was the next problem. Suddenly, his mattress felt oh so uncomfortable. Even if he knew it was just his mind trying to play tricks on him, it was still managing to gnaw away at his sanity. Why did it  _ always _ have to happen after a good day? 

Somehow, he eventually did drift off into a very light sleep. He would awake every now and again at the sounds of pipes rustling through the walls, and it resulted in another episode. Not as bad, since sleepiness always muddled the mind process. But it was one nonetheless. 

The sun peeking through the blinds was the last thing that had woke him up. He just happened to stay awake as he heard soft footsteps around his apartment. He didn’t bother to open his eyes, or even move. It would just cause more exhaustion. 

The squeaking of the couch. The soft rustle of him putting his keys into his pocket. Was it a violation to listen to him gather his things? His eyes squeezed shut a bit tighter to try and somehow drown out the noises. Of course, it didn’t work. At all. But luckily for him, it wasn’t long before he heard the soft click of the door. 

He had left. 

Bertoldt let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

Everything was seemingly back to normal.

In his mind, that is. 

Despite it already being morning, he found himself drifting off. This time, into a peaceful sleep. 

He didn’t wake up until noon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, i secretly hate this chapter so much but I keep having ideas for later chapters, but not current ones and its just throwing me all out of whack. I'm really sorry if its boring, or if it doesn't meet your expectations, but I hope that youll stick with me!   
> thank you for all the kind comments and reads!


	4. Actions Have Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back on my bs! As always, I hope you guys enjoy!  
> I'm essentially done with school for this year, so i should have more time to write. Expect more frequent updates!

Christmas time was coming far too quickly. The holidays were always a stressful time, but luckily Bertoldt had already done his shopping. His job was having a small secret santa, and he was only really obligated to buy presents for a couple of his friends. The rest of them weren’t really close enough for it to make a difference. This year, he was going through the effort to get Jean something. He didn’t really know what he would like, if he were being honest. Sure, there were things he spoke about liking, but he couldn’t do such a big gesture. For now, at least.

Another great thing had miraculously happened. Jean had asked him to come shopping with him. He had made a big fuss about how boring it was to go by himself, and promised he’d buy him dinner if he went. Bertoldt was going to go, for sure. Even if he didn’t buy him dinner.

So that’s why he was currently standing outside the local mall, probably as frozen as a statue. At least he had the lights to look at. And the fountain that a kid was currently trying to get into. He couldn’t even imagine how cold the water probably was. 

Jean was soon coming up towards him, his footsteps in a hurried pace. “Please tell me you didn’t wait long?” he asked, not even bothering to wait for an answer as he headed up towards the entrance, obviously eager to get into the heated building. 

“Just a few minutes,” Bertoldt reassured, following behind him with a smile. 

“Great,” he hummed, looking back at him as he slid his hood down. “Let’s get started. I don’t wanna be here until closing.” 

—

Well, simply put, they were there until closing. Jean was a surprisingly shitty gift picker. Bertoldt didn’t even want to start on the horrendous smelling candle that he had picked out. He knew the second someone lit it, the whole house would reek of some nose-killing christmas scent. 

“Are they really that bad?” Jean asked, slumping over in the booth as he chewed on the end of his straw. 

“Mhm.”

“Then what the fuck am I supposed to buy?” he groaned, still somewhat huffing to himself. 

“Just get them a gift card, or something..” 

“But there’s no sentimental value in that!”

“Yet there is an overpriced My Little Pony kids watch?”

“She has small wrists!”

Bertoldt couldn’t help but start laughing at that. Sure, Krista was a petite girl, so he wasn’t exactly wrong. He just wasn’t right either. 

“Well, what did you get her then?” Jean asked, though his eyes were still scanning over the menu. 

“I got her a Sanrio wallet.. You know how much she loves Hello-Kitty.” 

Jean gave a defeated sigh, looking up at him for a moment. “Fine, you’re right. That’s a lot better.” he admitted, though it was obvious he was still contemplating what he should buy instead. 

“You still have two weeks to think about it. Just don’t throw away the receipt and you can take it back.”

Jean nodded lightly, seeming to be in higher spirits. Not by much, but it was there. “Let’s just eat,”

—

Dinner went well. Diner food was always a score, especially late at night. And the fact that they served breakfast all day was even better. Pancakes and eggs were something he just couldn’t pass up. 

“Thanks for coming with me, again,” Jean said, looking down at his feet as they walked down the sidewalk. 

“It’s no problem.. I had fun.” Bertoldt reassured, and he had meant that. 

“I have to wait for the bus, but you can head on. It’s gonna be another forty-five minutes or so.” 

Jean had taken the bus? That must have been the reason that he was late. 

“Why didn’t you just drive?” he blurted out, soon worying that it was far too insensitive. “Sorry- you don’t have to answer,” he quickly reassured, his fist clenching within his coat pockets. 

Jean laughed lightly, nudging him lightly. “You don’t always gotta act so nervous around me. We’re friends.” he said, but then shrugged. “My roommate needed the car. His was at the shop, and I didn’t want him to be late for work.” he hummed, not thinking too much of it. 

“That was sweet of you,” he smiled, even though he guessed that it wasn’t really a grand gesture. But still- someone else could’ve turned it down quickly. 

Jean’s face was a light shade of red, as was the tips of his ears. He was cute when he was embarrassed. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Bertoldt took it upon himself to change the direction of the conversation. “I can wait with you, if you want?” he asked softly, knowing he’d feel bad if he left him outside. He knew he was more than capable of taking care of himself, but it was just one of those things. Like how you should never drive away from a friends house until they were safely inside. It was just the rules. 

“It’s late, go on home,” he said, not backing down in the slightest. 

“But we can go look at the decorations down the street… Or window shop? the corner stores are always fun to look at.” He was trying to wrack his brain for every plausible excuse to stay. 

“Alright.” Jean said, turning on his heel to begin his walking journey. 

Bertoldt was shocked that he had gave in so easily, but decided not to say anything. He was happy to go, after all. 

—

They had ended up staring at the town tree for a while, then discussing how they thought that they got the lights so even, despite it being so high up. Anyone working from that height would’ve been sure to make a bit more of a mess, they thought. 

And on the plus side, Jean had revealed that he liked some sort of jacket he saw in the window of a store. Bertoldt had already taken a mental note to stop back by tomorrow to get it. He knew it probably wasn’t the best gift, but it was better to be safe than sorry. He didn’t want to get something and it end up being worse than the watch. 

The both of them were now walking back towards the bus stop, it being a solid seven minutes before it would get there. Assuming that it was on time. 

“You wouldn’t want to come to put up lights with me too, would you?” Jean asked as he slid himself on the bench, immediately cringing at the coldness of the metal. 

Bertoldt sat down beside him, giving a soft laugh. “I’ll pass on that one. I have to go see my family anyway. They recently moved and are all worried about having things ready for some Christmas party that they have.” 

“Really? Sounds better than listening to your mother bitch for hours straight about how shitty the Polar Express is.” 

“She can’t be that bad,” 

“She’s not. She just annoys me.” 

Bertoldt chuckled lightly, turning to look at him a bit better. “Well, the sooner you get it done, the better.”

“That’s one way to look at it. You make it more tolerable to think about, I guess.”

“Oh. That’s good.” he said, still cursing himself for not being able to respond to any sort of compliment. 

Jean tapped on his knee for a moment, staring off as well. It was hard to tell what he was thinking about. 

“You don’t think it’s weird to.. like..” it was obvious he was struggling to get out what he was saying. “Be gay, right?” 

It was now Bertoldt’s turn to just sit and stare. Where the  _ fuck _ did that question come from?

“No..?” was he supposed to say more? He couldn’t exactly say any less, but he wished he somehow could have.

“Oh,” he said, soon nodding. “Okay.”

Bertoldt sat there for a long moment, unsure of whether or not he should say anything else. The tension was high. He didn’t see why it needed to be, though. He figured he was just nervous, that was all. 

The city bus was soon making its way down the street, the sign slowly switching to show where its next destination would be. 

“I’m sorry,” Jean suddenly spoke, locking eyes with him intently. 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” 

“Yeah, I do.” his gaze was still focused, and they got that same glint in them when he was up to something. Except this time, it didn’t seem like he was planning to do anything bad. Just daring. 

“Really, you don’t have to be-“ before Bertoldt could explain that it was okay to ask questions, he was met with a pair of cold lips on his own. 

Despite the coldness, they were perfectly soft. And tasted like the maple syrup they had had over dinner. And he would be damned if he were going to say he wasn’t a hell of a kisser. 

It wasn’t a very long kiss. But it was more than a peck. Before he could even process a coherent thought, it was over, and Jean was pulling away, hastily standing himself up as he grabbed at the bags of things he had bought. 

“I’ll see you around,” his tone was awkward, and he refused to meet eyes with him. He was so focused on boarding that bus the second that the doors came open that he barely had the patience to wait for the people coming off the bus to get out of the way. 

But eventually, he got himself on, paying for the fees in an instant. Bertoldt could tell he was eager to leave now. He couldn’t blame him. Even if he wished he could’ve talked to him about it, or at least asked what it meant. He didn’t know. 

He tried to force those thoughts down, clearing his throat lightly as he stood up. He wasn’t going to achieve anything by getting hypothermia. 

Once he was in the car and substantially warmer, he was on his way back to his place. He could barely process anything. Did Jean like him? Was he doing that as an experiment? Or was he just using him? No- the last one seemed unlikely, considering that Jean couldn’t hide his annoyance with anyone. 

There was only one way to find out what it meant. Asking. As bad as he felt to simply text him about it, he knew it would be better than having to actually speak about it verbally. On the phone, or in person. 

Now he sat on his bed, phone in his hands as he tried to figure out how to word it. He even thought of backing out all together and just waiting for Jean to explain himself. But he felt that was unlikely. 

Instead of a text bombarding him with what had happened, he simply texted him hey. 

And despite the fact that hours had passed, he couldn’t stop thinking about the small interaction. He couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen when Jean texted him back. 

There was only one problem. 

Jean never did answer him back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like my writing was a bit more solid. I'm starting to get used to the formatting of AO3, so it looks a bit neater now. I hope you guys will continue to tune in!


	5. Joy To All That's Not So Good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight tw/cw for homophobia. It's not that detailed, or bad, but just a small heads up, didn't want to bother anyone. Next chapter will hold similar themes.  
> Hope you enjoy!

December 24th. The most dreaded time of year. For Bertoldt, anyway. Having to listen to his family argue about politics, then listen to them make racist comments, then ending it off by slandering homosexuals. 

What said Christmas more than that? 

The one good thing that came along with that was his mother. The only person out of their whole family who actually had a level head. Who didn’t hate people for simply existing. 

And that was why he tried to stay within her presence as much as possible. To avoid the mayhem of his fathers side. 

“Sweetheart, would you go ahead and set the table?” she called out, still frantically making her way across the kitchen. Bertoldt just couldn’t figure out why she didn’t order takeout. He mentioned it every year, but to no avail, she would simply say that ‘it wouldn’t be christmas without homemade food.’ Which, he figured was somewhat true, but she shouldn’t have to do it herself. He tried to help as much as he could, but it always ended with her doing a majority of it, and his father talking with the people who had gotten there way too early. 

Bertoldt only gave her a soft nod, picking up the dinner plates to go and place on the table. They had small engravings of holly around the border, and were an off-white color. He had always liked them. There were only ten seats in total, so it wasn’t a very big ordeal of trying to fix things. He couldn’t make the napkins into fancy shapes, or anything of the sorts, but he got the job done. 

After completing that small task, the dishes were now making their way towards the dining room, sitting carefully atop of the potholders to keep from ruining the table. 

It was just one night. One night that he had to listen to them talk. One night that he would have to tolerate things he didn’t believe in. Things he didn’t support. 

Everyone always made a big deal of putting people in their place. Of standing up to their family. Or even to strangers. And Bertoldt admired people who could do that- he really did. But no matter how upset it made him, he would always choke back his words. 

They were his family. No matter the cruel things that people could do, he couldn’t help but forgive them. And he hated that about himself. He hated the amount of guilt he would feel for not liking someone. For having his own opinions. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had gone to sleep without letting guilt nip at him. Did these things make him a bad person? He was beginning to not know anymore. 

“Alright, it’s time to eat!” 

And just like that, his mind was clear. Making his way to one of the corner seats, his head aching slightly as he did so. 

Everyone began to file into the seats that had never been assigned. Grandparents from both sides. Aunt and uncle from his mother’s side, another uncle from his fathers side. Parents, and then himself. This was one of the few times that he absolutely seethed being an only child. No one to reconcile in whatsoever. 

He figured it was for the better, though. Who's to say they would even agree with him. 

Most of everyone had already begun stacking food onto their plate, like it was going to leave if they turned away for a moment. It was almost disgusting. 

“Remember we have to say the prayer before we eat-“ his mother’s eyes were locked on his fathers, to which he only gave a thin grin. 

Everyone was joining hands, closing their eyes and looking downwards. 

Although Bertoldt wasn’t against praying, doing it as a whole just made him beyond nervous. Especially when they would all pressure him into being the one to give it. 

His leg was already bouncing anxiously under the table, reliving the times when he was embarrassed by it. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much. Being belittled was never a good feeling, he guessed. 

The pressure was soon lifted off of him, someone else stepping up to give it for a change. 

That gave him a thin string of hope that tonight wouldn’t be as bad as he had thought. 

—

He was wrong. He was oh-so wrong. 

Not even fifteen minutes in and they were already gossiping up a shit storm. 

And it only continued to get worse after that. 

“And I told him if his gay self didn’t get on somewhere, that it was going to be him in the damned drink box!” 

Laughing erupted throughout the table, Bertoldt only managing a nervous chuckle. We’re they really going to threaten someone’s life and still act like good christians? He reckoned so. 

“And if you ever bring back someone like that,” his dad's finger was pointed right at Bertoldt. He was obviously a little drunk. Carefree and happy. Speaking whatever his mind told him to. “I’ll shoot his ass.” 

Bertoldt really didn’t know how to respond to that. He only sat there, managing to speak out the weakest lie imaginable. 

“Don’t worry.” 

Well, it wasn’t exactly a lie. He sure as hell wasn’t going to bring any sort of boyfriend over. If he did, it would simply be a friend. They had acted okay with Reiner, so other friends- maybe Jean- would be okay.

He continued to pick and mess at his plate of food, dragging his fork through the mashed potatoes to make it look like a plowed field. Oh, to not have an irrational fear of eating in front of everyone. 

“Alright, enough of that talk. Is everyone ready for dessert? I have chocolate pie and cheesecake. Everyone can go on and get a piece of each so there’s no leftovers.” the way his mother would so easily get the attention off of him without batting an eye. She really had spoilt him, hadn’t she?

—

Company had thankfully left. And while it wasn’t really as bad as it had been in the past, it still left a nasty taste in the back of his mouth. 

Currently, he was curled up on the couch, an old and worn afghan draped across his shoulders. His eyes were glued to the TV screen as Charlie and the chocolate factory played. Johnny Depp was one hell of a Willy Wonka, that was for sure. 

Despite being in a new home, it essentially felt like the old one where he grew up in. It was probably because it consisted of the same furniture, but it was still amazing how everything felt so.. in place. 

He stuck his hand back into the cheez-it’s box, trying not to be but so loud in his doings. Especially considering his dad was asleep in the recliner beside him. He knew he wouldn’t be mad if he woke up, but it still would be better to be safe than sorry. 

Bertoldt turned his gaze as he felt an added weight sink into the couch. He didn’t even need to look to know who it was. There was no one else it could’ve been, after all. 

“Bertoldt?” 

He blinked out of his daze and sat himself up a bit better. Her nervous tone made him want to get up and leave. 

“Hm?”

The older woman sucked in her lip slightly, the maroon colored lipstick already beginning to fade away from wearing it the entire day. She brought her hand forward, combing down one of the cowlicks on Bertoldt’s head. 

“No matter who you bring home,”

Just with that small sentence, Bertoldt felt a lump in his throat. Sure, her tone sounded sweet enough, and the words held good meaning, but he couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming amount of dread. 

Coming out, regardless of long it had been, or how old you were, was scary. He had really, and truly, never planned to do so. He wanted to keep it a secret for as long as he could. 

“I’ll be happy to meet them.” 

Her words were in a whisper, obviously trying to keep things subtle. 

“You’ll always be my boy, okay? And I won’t let him do a thing to you.” 

She pointed towards her husband, then leaned forward to place a quick kiss onto his forehead. She had more nerve than he did, to bring up such a thing. 

Bertoldt wanted to say thank you, hug her, or do anything. But his mind flooded with one certain question. 

“Is it obvious?” he blurted out, his distraction slowly being broken as a loud commercial began to play in the background. 

She shook her head, “I only took a guess.” 

He left it at that, not wanting to say much more on the topic. Sure, he was happy that she wasn’t mad. But it was a lot for his fragile mind to process. 

He blamed no one but himself. He assumed that he always looked uncomfortable during those topics. Or nervous. Who wouldn’t think that he was hiding something? 

“Do you like Reiner?” she asked after the brief moment of silence, her eyes sparkling ever so slightly. Bertoldt already knew that she was going to want to talk about everything under the sun. 

Bertoldt gave a tiny laugh, shaking his head. “No.. We’re just friends, mom.”

They continued to chatter on like that for a while longer, before it got late enough to the point where Bertoldt couldn’t stay up much longer. He would simply have to answer all of her questions another day. Preferably a day when it was just the two of them, and he didn’t have to whisper about everything. Life didn’t always work out that perfectly, but he could hope. 

—

Soon enough, it was Christmas morning. It really didn’t feel like Christmas, though. It was just another day out or the year. One more day closer to the new year. 

Small gifts were exchanged throughout the three of them. It mostly consisted of gift cards and cash, but it was still heartfelt, nonetheless. 

Despite the offer that he could stay a while longer, he let himself go back home. Besides, he had more gifts to distribute. He knew everyone was probably at relatives, but he figured he would just drop it off in their mailbox or doorstep. Besides, it was always weird giving someone a present. He hated watching their reaction, because he could never tell if they meant it or not. 

As distraught as it had made him, there were still no more texts from Jean. He knew he shouldn’t worry about it. It’s not like they were  _ that _ close. But he still enjoyed his company. And they were friends. And it was okay to worry about friends. 

He stood in front of his apartment door, contemplating whether or not he should knock. What if his roommate answered? Then he'd just feel stupid. What if Jean simply didn’t want to talk? That was a possibility as well. 

He eventually decided on simply leaving it outside, assuming he’d find it once he got home. He really did hope that he got the right size in the jacket. He left the receipt in the box, so he hoped that would solve the problem. 

Even though he wasn’t ready to admit it, he was beginning to have a crush on him. It was weird to look at someone in a different way after knowing them for so long. Sure, they had only actually met in sophomore year of highschool, but any friendship that lasted longer than a year was well worth it. And this one was going on around seven years now. They just hadn’t always been close. 

So things are definitely different now. Hell, they had even kissed. It was very different. But that wasn’t a bad thing. Not at all. 

He just hoped that things would soon be back to normal between them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, since chapter five is now done, I feel like its a good time for me to ask if there is anything you guys would like me to add to the story? Could be plot wise, or length wise. I'm considering making the chapters a bit longer/merge them together. My original goal was to make each chapter 2000 words, but I can push myself for more if anyone was interested. Feel free to let me know, I'll seriously appreciate it!


	6. The Metaphor of Being Stabbed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WowwwWW I havent updated in forever. this is actually the first time ive opened my computer since I last updated. I havent had the motivation for writing lately, and it just feels like things are at a stand still. Ive had this chapter done for a while, so im glad to finally share it with you all.  
> How was your new years and holidays? do any of you have any goals for 2021? Mine is to be more productive lol.

Five more days had passed with no contact from Jean. It was edging up on two weeks now. Bertoldt had almost gotten used to not having his company anymore. Almost. It still stung just a tad, though. But he couldn’t mourn over something he didn’t have for that long. It just didn’t make good sense. 

And besides, it was his birthday. He needed to enjoy himself. Sure, it didn’t really feel like a special day, considering that Christmas was just a few days ago, and then New Year’s eve was tomorrow. He was used to it getting shadowed. Or Christmas gifts being birthday gifts as well. Not that he really cared- he appreciated it nonetheless. 

Yep. It was going to be a good day. He was going to get lunch with Reiner, then he had promised to buy him a piece of cake. He hoped that they had carrot cake. He only liked it when it came from there. He couldn’t stand it when other places would make it too dry. 

And as if on cue, his phone pinged ever so lightly, the message indicating that his friend was waiting for him outside. 

—

Dessert had already been served, and Bertoldt gave Reiner a tiny thanks since he didn’t get the waiters to sing in front of everyone like they would be obliged to do. Just imagining everyone’s eyes being glued on him was enough to make him cringe. 

“You have anything else planned?” Reiner spoke up, leaning lazily on his elbow as he brought the fork back to lips. 

“Just going home,” 

“No plans to see anyone?”

“Who on earth would I see?”

“I don’t know-“

Bertoldt knew what he was trying to get at, huffing to himself. He wasn’t really angry, just irritated at the fact that he couldn’t say that he was meeting up with someone. 

“Sorry,” he beathed out, rubbing his forehead lightly. There was nothing really left on his plate besides a few crumbs, but they were the most interesting crumbs he had ever seen. He felt bad not telling Reiner what had been happening in his life as of recently, but he also reasoned that he couldn’t unless Jean had gave him the okay. Sure- Reiner knew the essentials, as everyone else did, but nothing too in depth. He planned to keep it that way. “I just don’t want to talk about it.”

Reiner seemed to drop it, just giving a slight nod as he moved to stack their plates together. Anything to make the waitress’s life a little bit easier. Along with that, a tip was placed under the salt shaker before he stood up. “Let’s go,”

Bertoldt nodded lightly, gathering his things before following along behind him. “Thanks again,” he hummed, giving a nervous smile. “I had fun.” 

“August first, we’re doing it again,” he joked lightly, but not seeming too phased. He would insist that he had wanted to do it. “But, with that aside, you’re down for tomorrow, right?” 

The past two years, they had been going down to the out of town bar. It had its perks. It was a lot more upscale than the one they had. It was a place where people wouldn’t have to worry about the bathroom being dirty. 

“Yeah.”

The snow had just began to stick on the pavement, and suddenly Bertoldt was glad that he wore something with grips. The last thing he needed was to land his ass in an ice cold puddle. He couldn’t deny the fact that he was happy with it, though. It was obvious it was going to stick. And although it might have caused a driving problem, he was sure it was nothing that couldn’t be handled with being cautious. 

The rest of the walk was filled with the usual conversations that they had- work schedules, complaining about life, and everything in between. 

“I kind of came out at my parents house.” he mentioned, not realizing that he hadn’t said anything about it. He hadn’t even really gave it that much thought, if he were honest. It all felt like some sort of dream. 

“Yeah? How’d it go?” 

“Fine. It was just my mom. She had asked if I was, and stuff.” 

Reiner seemed to nod in thought, “Well, I know it’s none of my business, but I’m glad it wasn’t your dad. I think he’ll have a heart attack on the spot.” 

Bertoldt gave a tiny laugh, “Yeah. Especially considering he had just said he’d shoot someone that was gay if I brought them around. Gotta love not having gun control, huh?”

“Tell me about it.”

Bertoldt decided to leave out the part where his mother had insinuated that they were dating. He knew he wouldn’t mind, and it would just give them something to laugh about, but he didn’t feel like now was the right time. 

He was glad that they had had time to catch up a little bit. Sure, the walk back was as cold as a bitch, but it was fun. 

They were soon back at Bertoldt’s apartment, and were ready to bid a farewell. “You’ll be fine getting home?” 

“Yeah, it’s not that bad out. Just go in and relax.” He ushered, waving him off eagerly. It wasn’t to get him away, though. He just knew it would be a long while before Bertoldt would give him the okay to leave. 

Which was sweet of him, but not necessary for the light snow. What would be bad was if he stayed and it only got worse. 

So that’s why he left. 

—

It was now around six thirty, and Bertoldt was currently switching around his classes for the next semester. It wasn’t an ideal thing to be doing, but he  _ really _ didn’t want to take that cooking class, and today was the last day to change it. 

He really couldn’t wait to graduate this summer, even though he eventually knew he’d be bound to go back to try for something better. 

In the midst of his clicking at the keyboard, he heard a knock at the door. It didn’t cross his mind that it was someone to let in, figuring that it was probably just the delivery person. 

Well, he  _ was _ thinking that, until he heard the knock again around thirty seconds later. 

With a tiny huff, he shut his laptop, and pushed it aside, staring at the door in curiosity. He didn’t know who to expect, unless it was a surprise visit from his parents, or someone who needed to borrow money. He didn’t know which would be worse. 

Bringing his eye to the peephole, he was surprised to see the one person who had been dodging him this whole time. 

Jean fucking Kirshtein. 

He willingly opened the door, though, not wanting to be the reason that he caught a cold. “Sorry.. I thought it was someone else.” 

Jean stood there, not really moving from his place in the doorway. “Can I come in?”

“It would be a wasted trip if you didn’t, no?” he chuckled lightly, moving aside so that he could get himself in. 

“Right.” He said, though anyone could tell his mind was elsewhere. He wasn’t even entirely sure that he was properly listening, but it didn’t matter. “Happy birthday,” he hummed, sitting a small box onto a corner table. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he reassured, knowing that he probably could’ve used the money for himself in a better way. 

“Don’t worry about it.” he said, immediately stripping off his coat and throwing it to the floor. It was the very coat that Bertoldt had given him a few days prior, so it was nice to see that he liked it. “Didn’t you have a coat rack here?”

“No..?”

“Ah.”

Jean was now picking up his coat, folding it as neatly as he possibly could. It was a good thing that he didn’t work in a clothing store. 

Bertoldt had to refrain himself from asking why exactly he had come over. He didn’t really mind. He just figured that it would be when Jean would break the news that he ‘didn’t want to be seen out in public with him anymore’. Which could honestly wait until another day. 

Jean was now on the couch, still staring off into space, as he had been moments before. 

“Sorry for uh.. disappearing.” he started, sinking back into the couch, his neck craned up towards the ceiling. 

“It’s okay.. you’re not obligated to be present twenty four-seven.”

“I am when I lead you on!” His head had snapped back down, and his eyes were going straight through his soul. 

Bertoldt was taken by surprise at that, absentmindedly taking a step back. 

“That’s your problem! You’re such a pushover- you- you never tell people how you feel! Tell me that it made you upset! Yell at me! Do something!” 

Despite the ferocity of his words, they had no true bite to them. If anything, he knew it all too well. Jean was trying to make himself feel better by getting someone mad at him. He didn’t really understand the logic, but he would let him cope how he pleased to. Even though he knew this, he wouldn’t give in. It just wasn’t in his heart to be mean to people. 

“But i'm not mad at you, Jean,” he said, trying to keep his words as calm as he possibly could. They could talk about this a different way. Preferably one without yelling. 

“I don’t get you!” Jean was not standing up, pacing around the living room floor. “People can completely screw you over, and you don’t even care!”

“I’m sure they have their reasons,” 

“No! They don’t! You literally don’t have a bad bone in you!” 

Bertoldt was growing more and more weary by the second. Was Jean trying to compliment him, or telling him to change himself? It was hard to tell. 

There was a silence after that. A thick one. 

Jean was soon stepping forward, his face immediately planting into Bertoldt’s chest. 

“If you’re as much as an angel as you seem to be, then please make it fucking  _ stop _ .” 

Bertoldt certainly didn’t see himself as some sort of angel, or anything close to it. What was even worse was that he didn’t know what he was supposed to be helping with. 

“I’ll do my best.” 

And he meant that with every fiber of his heart. He didn’t really think that his help would be superior, but he knew it was always nice to be listened to. 

—

It was only an hour in, and Jean had spilled his entire life story, thrown up twice, and then proceeded to wallow in self loathing. 

It was a complete and utter train wreck. Surprisingly enough, no tears had been shed yet. He figured it was him trying to maintain that one ounce of dignity he had left. 

He had admitted to him that he had kept this bottled up for months now, so the sudden outburst of emotions wasn’t too weird now. 

“And, I mean- it’s like your whole life you sit and listen to people preach about how you’re going to hell for everything that you do. And then, oh shit, ten years later and then everyone’s preaching about how it’s okay! Which is it, okay, or not?” Jean was stretching uncomfortably, upset at the fact that he had broken a sweat from all that had happened. 

“And then, on top of that, it’s like.. whenever i get any sort of good feelings, I always think back to when I would tell myself that I wouldn’t do it. That I would never become one of the shitty people who went against everyone’s wishes.” 

Bertoldt only gave a brief nod, waiting for him to continue on. 

“I spent so long trying to be a good person and better things, but then all along, it’s like I was the one that was making it worse.” 

Bertoldt didn’t know if it would have been appropriate to reach out to comfort him. He wanted to hold his hand, hug him, or anything in between. He just wanted him to know that he was there. 

“You’re not a bad person.” he said, his voice steadier than it had ever been before. 

“We both know i’m not that great.”

“You’re great, to me.” 

“Bertoldt..”

“I’m serious. You’ve always spoken your mind. I’ve always admired that about you. I was even jealous over it. You’re so brash. And even if you can’t, I can tell that you’re doing more good for the world than you think.”

Jean closed the space between them after the small speech, laying his head down in his lap. The way that he would ever so gently nuzzle into his legs made him seem like some sort of kitten. 

“I really like you.” Jean finally breathed out, his eyes squeezing shut. Bertoldt had noticed that they were becoming wet. 

“Yeah.. I really like you too.” 

“Enough to date me?”

“Enough to date you.” 

For the first time since he had been there, Jean cracked an ever so tiny smile, opening his eyes to look up at him. 

“I.. I still need some time, though..” 

“Take all the time that you need.” 

“And you’ll still be here?”

“Wouldn't have a single reason to leave.” 

He never would’ve thought that Jean would have had problems accepting that he was gay. Or bisexual. Or anything else on the spectrum. Whatever he felt fit him, he was ready to accept and cherish him. 

“Did it take you a long time to know?” 

“A little. I realized in middle school. I never really worried about it, I guess. I know it’s probably silly, but I just planned to never date anyone. That way no one could find out, and I wasn’t at risk for being hurt.” he said, a little chuckle leaving his lips as he thought back to it. 

“Oh,” Jean hummed softly. 

“When did you start figuring it out?” 

“A little before I had that crush on Mikasa. I think I was doing it just so I wouldn’t think about guys and shit. It was a lot harder than it sounded.” 

“I bet.” 

Jean watched him for a moment longer, forcing himself to sit back up. “I have more things that.. I want to know.” he said, flickering his eyes towards him. “Just not now.” 

“Whenever will be fine.” 

“Thank you.. I would now it’s just- I feel like I've been stabbed about thirty times now and..” 

“You don’t need to explain yourself around me. Trust me, I get it.”

They ended up sitting within each other’s company after that, the time just dwindling away. Even though the conversations were bumpy, Bertoldt was glad that they had them. He could tell by the end of it, Jean had felt better, even if it was just a little bit. 

—

A few more hours had passed and neither of them had really moved. Bertoldt had went through the effort to make them dinner, to which they both ate gladly ate. Sure, it was only a microwave dinner, but it was food nonetheless. 

This was the first time that the silence between them had actually been comfortable. He liked it. A lot. 

“I guess i’ll head on out,” Jean finally spoke, stretching as he stood himself up. 

Bertoldt only gave a small nod, not wanting to seem to pushy by asking him to stay longer. “Okay,” 

Jean shuffled on his feet for a moment, before leaning forward to press a quick kiss against his cheek. His face had flared up from it, but he could tell that the bold move had made Jean proud of himself. “Bye.” 

“Text me, alright?”

“Alright.” 

He gave a small wave before he stepped out of the door, it clicking shut softly. 

Bertoldt let out a tiny sigh, tapping his fingers against his thigh lightly. It was stupid, but he already missed the company. 

It suddenly clicked in his brain that Jean had brought him a present earlier. He turned his head towards the table on which it sat, picking up the neatly wrapped box. 

He tore the paper slowly, almost scared to look inside. He didn’t have much of an idea of what it could actually be. 

His smile only grew a bit larger when he actually saw it. It was a book of poems. Bertoldt really wasn’t into poetry that much, but it was still a very nice gesture. Much nicer than every other gift he had picked out. 

He loved it. 

Without a moment of hesitation, he opened the book to the first page, reading the short stanzas one by one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ive been having slight thoughts of discontinuing this story, but im going to try not to? I think completing it would make me feel proud of myself so I want to try.   
> See you next time!


	7. Concept of Turning a New Leaf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone!! its been a while since ive updated, but I'm back. Life has been hectic, and i honestly don't know whether this chapter is any good or not, but I wanted to get back into the groove of writing. I hope you guys enjoy, and as always, thank you so much for your support!

New years had come up on everyone in the blink of an eye. Lots of meaningless resolutions, booze, and kisses on the countdown. 

And then after that, everything was back to normal. Depressingly normal. But that was life, nonetheless. 

One thing had changed, though. 

Jean had finally made up his mind and wanted to be ‘boyfriends or whatever’, to say his exact words. Bertoldt was beyond happy to hear that, even if Jean hadn’t really been in a real relationship before. So he said, at least. 

But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he had never seen Jean with anyone in their entirety of knowing one another. He knew he had attempted to hook up with people numerous times, but he figured that none of them had lasted longer than a day or so. 

It had been nearly a week now, so he guessed that this was doing better than the others. 

Maybe they were working out because they had known each other previously? This probably wasn’t the proper thing to think about while they were both watching TV, and mindlessly discussing future dates, but the Icarly episode where they enforce the thoughts of two people having a relationship because it was simple and easy was etched into his mind. 

But this wasn’t simple, was it? This was the first time they had both worked hard at something. Jean was trying to get rid of whatever internalized-homophobia that he had left, and Bertoldt was trying not to be so nervous around him. It took lots of work. But the thought of potentially being some sort of ‘toxic’ boyfriend, or somehow manipulating Jean, really scared him the most. 

Sure, he knew things would never be perfect, because no relationship ever was, but.. What if he intentionally did something to hurt him? What if his mind was just making him  _ think _ that he liked him? 

“Don’t you think that’ll work out?”

Jean’s voice slowly broke him out of his thoughts, it taking a few more moments before he was fully listening, though. 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

Jean gave him an uncertain look, now shifting in his seat. 

“Are you okay..?” 

Bertoldt hummed lightly, twiddling with his thumbs for a moment. “Just got caught up in my head.” 

“Well, stop.” Jean said, his blunt tone shining through, soon smacking at his anxious hands just enough so that he could hold one of them. “I know it’s selfish, but I want your attention to be on me,” 

Bertoldt couldn’t help but let out a tiny laugh at that, bringing up his freehand to cover up his mouth. “Sorry- just- I didn’t expect you to say something like that..” 

Jean’s face was now a dangerous shade of red, him shooting daggers over at him. “Gosh, I didn’t know you could be such a bitch,” 

“It was cute,” he smiled, giving his hand a light squeeze. 

“Yeah, well..” 

“I’m serious. Now tell me what you wanted to do. Please?”

—

With it being the winter months, Jean wasn’t too busy. Feeding chickens and horses was mainly on his agenda. Bertoldt really didn’t know how he could stand working on a farm. But Jean really did have that look about him. Not because he looked like a horse, though. Not at all. But he was pretty sure that was the reason Jean had insisted on them doing something together when he wasn’t obligated to do that. 

He couldn’t bring himself to care, though. He didn’t want him to be insecure and whatnot. Especially not by a nickname that had faded off years ago. Besides, he had more important things to look forward to. This was the first time they were spending the night together. 

Bertoldt knew that it wasn’t going to be anything other than cuddling- maybe a few kisses, he didn’t know- but he was beyond happy with that. He didn’t really expect anything more out of Jean. He was so happy looking now, and he definitely didn’t want to rush into things. Slow and steady. That was who always won the race, right? 

The sun had already set, and Bertoldt was perched in his room, pajamas already on. It may have only been seven thirty, but there was no time limit on being comfortable. Jean stepped into the room a moment after, drying his wet hands on his shirt. “I had a hand towel,” he chuckled, watching as Jean moved to lay on top of the comforter. “I didn’t want to walk all the way to the kitchen.” he responded, not too deeply phased by it. 

A small silence washed over them as Jean moved around, obviously trying to get comfortable. He wasn’t sure if he should interrupt or not. 

He thankfully didn’t have to decide, the shorter guy becoming still moments later. His hand was laid lightly across his chest, anxious fingers tapping into the black t-shirt that he wore. If he didn’t know any better, he would say it was an adorable sight. 

But he knew good and well that he was thinking about what to say next. And he couldn’t blame him, he was too. 

He hesitated breifly before turning onto his side, opening his arms out for him. Was he a fan of being the big spoon? Not at all, but he knew it was the better situation for them. 

He watched him glance over, then proceed to move closer. Before long, they were lightly pressed together in a somewhat comfortable way. 

Jean’s breathing was soft and airy, almost like he was asleep. It just wasn’t quite slow enough to be that. 

He knew it helped both of their nerves not having to face each other directly. Even if it meant just having to look past his shoulder at the plain wall.

He wondered if he should hang up a picture. 

“Are you having fun?” 

He felt Jean shift a tiny bit, him eventually nodding against the pillow. “Mhm. I prefer this a lot more than being home alone..” 

“You have a roommate,” 

He watched as he huffed, knowing good and well that he was probably pouting, despite not being able to see his face. 

“Whatever-“ 

Bertoldt sighed, though his smile never left his lips. “You really are something,” 

He paused for a moment, “In a good way, of course..”

Jean slowly turned his head to look at him, his own face having a pleasant smile to it. His eyes crinkled up at the corners, and laugh lines were visible. “You don’t always have to..” he trailed off, trying to figure out the right words as he turned to face him. The nervousness that Bertoldt thought that he had was vanished, Jean looking as un-phased as ever. “Like.. Y’know.. make sure everything is crystal clear. I’m not gonna beat you up, or anything..” 

Bertoldt stared at him, nodding slightly at his words. “I know- just-“

Jean pressed a finger to his lips. “No. None of that talk tonight. Get out of that fuckin’ noggin for once,” he said, carefully moving his hand away, and placing it onto his head. 

He didn’t know where the splurge of confidence had come from, but he was living for it. He could still see the faint blush resting on Jean’s cheek, despite the dark lighting. 

Jean’s hand slowly coursed through the dark brown hair in front of him, already seemingly distracted into his own little world. 

“Bertoldt?”

He only hummed lightly as a response, his eyes drifting shut. It had been a long time since anyone had played with his hair, and he had genuinely forgotten how relaxing it was. 

“Can I kiss you again?” 

His eyes were opened again seconds later, it now being his turn to become a blushing mess. 

“Oh- um- of course, you can..” he said, his lips twitching into a smile, “You don’t have to ask, though..” 

“Yes I do because.. what if you don’t want to kiss, and then I try to, and then you get mad, and-“ 

He raised a brow, his hand reaching up to cup his cheek. He could feel the slight stubble against his palm. “And you said I needed to get out of  _ my _ head.”

He blinked at that, his eyes soon widening in realization. “Sorry..” 

“I’ll forgive you if you give me that kiss?” 

“...fine.” 

Jean awkwardly propped up on his elbow, it being evident he still wasn’t too sure how to go about something like this. His lips pursed, then went back straight. “Like- an open mouth kiss?” 

“Whichever you want.” 

“Can’t you just tell me what to do?” he whined, sitting himself up on his knees, Bertoldt following his actions soon after, but instead sitting criss-cross. 

“You don’t have to do anything special-“ he replied, soon realizing that neither of them would be ballsy enough to actually make the first move. “Come here..”

Jean shuffled forward, “Okay.” 

“Now close your eyes.” he tried to keep his voice as soothing as possible, not wanting his nervousness to show. 

“This is stupid.” despite saying this, his eyes undoubtedly went shut. 

“Yeah, but you staring makes me…” he trailed off, remembering that he wasn’t supposed to get caught up in his head for the night.

“Oh? What, are you dirty minded?” he snickered, but not letting his eyes come back open. 

“Not like that-“

“Kidding, kidding,” 

He let himself lean back in, like he had been meaning to do moments before. He carefully let their lips meet for another light kiss. 

He wasn’t sure how long to let it last, especially when Jean was as stiff as a board. So he figured the sooner he ended it, the better. 

“You're supposed to breathe, Jean..” he said once he had pulled away, a small grin on his face. 

He glanced off to the side, letting out the breath that he had been holding. “I don’t want to get my breath all up in your face.” 

“You’re something.” 

Jean poked out his tongue, laying himself back down onto the mattress. Bertoldt joined him, a small yawn leaving him in the process. 

He silently took his hand back into his, lacing their fingers together. “I want you to be comfortable enough with me to do what you want. I know I don’t really have any room to talk.. I just don’t want you falling into habits of mine..”

Jean looked at him, sighing lightly. “I’m not going to do that. I’m fine.” He paused for a moment, “You know how when you were in grade school and you would walk down the hall, but then you would trip over your own feet, and everyone would start laughing at you?” 

A very specific story, but yeah, he knew. That was the joys of public school. 

“That’s how I feel with this. Like i’m going to fuck something up- yknow, being myself,- and then you’ll think i’m some sort of loser-“

“Jean. We aren’t in grade school anymore. We aren’t even in high school. We’re adults. I don’t expect this to be perfect. I mean- have you met us?” 

A small fit of laughter erupted between the both of them. 

“I trust you, okay?” he asked, once things had died back down a bit. “I trust that we’ll work through things like this together.” 

“You don’t think it’s stupid?” 

“Why would I?” 

“Good point.” 

The next couple of minutes were dead silent, both watching the other. Things already felt like they were turned to a new page. 

“Let’s get some rest.” 

“Yeah..” 

Bertoldt slowly leaned over and cut out the lamp, them being left in the small light that managed to find its way in from outside. 

He pecked his cheek lightly before laying back down, pulling the covers up as far as they could go. He really wished that they made blankets longer. 

“Goodnight.”

“Night.” 


End file.
